


Reap What You Sew

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-13
Updated: 2011-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-20 09:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an old school nemesis re-enters Millicent’s life it gives her the opportunity to prove herself that she never thought she’d receive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reap What You Sew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leela_cat (Leela)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/gifts).



> Written for Leela_Cat as part of the 2011 HP_Beholder fest. Thanks to Sevfan for beta reading and to Lilyseyes and Torino10154 for their assistance.

***

Reap What You Sew

***

The Department of Magical and Muggle Cooperation was the newest division of the Ministry and as such their offices were not in the most prestigious area of the vast building, yet Hermione didn’t mind. Her office space was tiny but cheerful, its false window charmed to reflect her mood, its furniture a rich, deep mahogany, and she’d even brought in several pictures from home to brighten up the walls.

None of that was making her smile at that moment, however. Not with Parvati leaning over her desk and haranguing her about clothes. Again. “For the last time, I’ll just find something in my wardrobe to wear to the reception,” Hermione said. “I don’t need a new dress.”

Parvati rolled her eyes. “Trust me, Granger, you do. I’ve seen everything in your wardrobe. This reception is a big deal. Lots of bigwigs will be there. You’ll need something new, something elegant. It’s part of the job, after all.” She pursed her lips. “I’ve been planning a shopping trip to Madam Malkin’s for something special to wear, why don’t you come with me?”

“I thought she only made robes?”

Parvati grinned. “She’s expanded, haven’t you heard? Now she specialises in high-end custom dresses as well. She’s even hired some new shop assistants. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Hermione sighed. It was clear Parvati wasn’t going to leave her alone; she’d been nagging Hermione about this for a week at least. “Fine, but I need to finish this paperwork first.” Behind her, the charmed window showed clouds drifting across the previously clear blue sky.

Parvati smiled. “Great. I’ll be back to get you in an hour.”

Bending her head, Hermione returned to work, but a small part of her couldn’t help but be excited to go shopping. _It’ll be nice to get a new dress, even if I’m being harangued into it._

***

Millicent made some last minute changes to her sketch then pursed her lips. _The neckline’s not quite right_ , she thought. _I need to drop it a bit--_ Muttering a spell, she erased the pencil line, wincing as her name was called. “Coming,” she replied.

With a sigh, she shoved the parchment into her robes and tossed back the last of her lukewarm tea before slipping in the back door of the shop. She was sure she was due at least another couple of minutes break, but she wasn’t about to argue with Madam Malkin. She needed this job too much and Malkin had made it clear she wouldn’t hesitate to sack her for the slightest infraction.

Madam Malkin, feet propped up on her desk, took a long drag on her cigarette and turned a page of her mag. “We have customers,” she drawled, waving her hand. “Get out there and see what they want.”

Nodding, Millicent smoothed down her robes and walked out into the main room. _They can’t be influential customers or she’d be doing this herself,_ Millicent thought. Inhaling, she intoned the standard shop greeting. “Welcome to Madam Malkin’s, the sartorial choice for the discerning witch and wizard. How may I help you?”

“Bulstrode?” A vaguely familiar witch eyed her up and down suspiciously. “What the devil are _you_ doing here?”

It took Millicent a second, but she quickly placed the woman. _Brilliant. A Gryffindor. Just what I needed today._ Schooling her face, Millicent inclined her head. “I work here, Ms Patil. Is there anything in particular I can help you with?”

Patil’s mouth dropped open. “You remember me?”

Millicent smiled, savouring the look of shock on her face. “Yes. You’re Parvati Patil. You were in my year at Hogwarts. Gryffindor if I recall correctly.” Not many people outside of Slytherin House knew that Millicent had an excellent memory for faces and names, and Millicent liked it that way. _It’s always good when people underestimate me._ “What can I do for you today?”

“We’re here for new dresses.” She raised an eyebrow as she inspected Millicent’s robes and clearly found them wanting. “They’re for an important upcoming Ministry function. Perhaps Madam Malkin herself could--”

“Madam Malkin is busy assisting other customers,” Millicent lied smoothly. “We? Is there more than one of you?” Millicent craned her neck looked for someone else.

Patil spun around. “Hermione? Oh God, where did she get to--?”

Millicent froze, mind racing. Hermione Granger was coming here? _Fuck. Why did it have to be her_? Patil ran outside and by the time she returned, Granger in tow, Millicent had regained control of herself. _She probably won’t even remember me--_

“--should have known I’d find you drooling at books through the bookstore window--” Patil rolled her eyes. “Honestly!”

Granger sighed, then blinked, looking surprised as she saw Millicent. “Bulstrode? Do you work here, then?”

“It appears so.” Proud that her voice emerged without inflection, Millicent gestured towards the fabric bolts. “Shall we get started? I understand you’re shopping for some rather special dresses today--”

***

Hermione couldn’t believe it. Millicent Bulstrode was a seamstress. _And she looks good._

As Bulstrode led them over to select their cloth, Hermione tried to reconcile the girl she remembered with this self-possessed woman in front of her.

“Can you believe that Madam Malkin hired _her_?” Parvati hung back to whisper. “I thought there were rules about hiring Death Eaters.”

“Are you sure she was a Death Eater?” Hermione asked.

“She was a _Slytherin_ ,” Parvati muttered. “Same thing, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not, Patil.” Bulstrode had turned to face them. “Many of us never took the Mark. Some of us even actively fought against the Dark Lord, protecting the younger students from the Carrows.”

Parvati rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said dismissively. “Just show us the fabric so we can get out of here.”

Once Bulstrode turned away once more, Hermione eyed her back thoughtfully. “Do you remember ever seeing her attack any students?” she asked Parvati quietly.

“Not specifically, no.” Parvati shrugged. “That doesn’t mean she didn’t though.”

 _It also doesn’t mean she did._ If it was one thing Hermione had discovered it was that the world wasn’t black or white. There were many shades of grey. Snape had turned out to be on the side of light, perhaps Millicent had been, too. _Ginny will know._

“Plus,” Parvati added. “She was tried and convicted.”

“Was she?” Hermione hadn’t paid a lot of attention to the post-war trials. She’d sat in on Draco Malfoy’s just because Harry had testified, but the others she’d ignored. “But then wouldn’t she be--”

“In Azkaban?” Bulstrode sighed. “Look, it’s obvious we won’t get anywhere until I address this so here’s all I have to say. The Wizengamot tried and convicted my parent of collaborating with the Dark Lord. They were sent to Azkaban.” Pulling up her left sleeve, she showed her unMarked arm. “I was acquitted. Happy?”

Hermione bit her lip. “Look I’m sor--”

Millicent held up a hand. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. Now, let me show you the designs we have available--”

Despite herself, Hermione found herself impressed by Millicent’s...serenity. Even though it couldn’t have been a pleasant topic to discuss, her quiet dignity in meeting their questions head-on and answering them in a straightforward manner went a long way to making Hermione think she was telling the truth. _Plus, she’d hardly be working here if she really had been convicted of a crime._

They spent several minutes picking out fabrics, Parvati choosing pink and Hermione a pale lavender-blue, but when Millicent invited Parvati to step up onto a pedestal for fitting, she refused. “I want Madam Malkin to measure me,” Parvati insisted. “I didn’t come here to pay these prices for some wannabe Dea--” she lowered her voice, “some _underling_ to make my dress.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. “And she’s not a Death Eater. She showed us she’s not.”

Parvati sneered. “Close enough,” she hissed.

Hermione glared. Sometimes her House mates could be infuriating. “Fine.” Raising her voice she said, “You can measure _me_ , Bulstrode.” Which was how she ended up clad in only knickers and bra, with Bulstrode draping cloth over body her while Parvati was measured by Madam Malkin herself.

With Parvati across the room, Hermione felt more comfortable asking some personal questions. “I believe you, you know,” she murmured as she stood on the dress pedestal. “About resisting Voldemort.” She noted Bulstrode’s wince. “He really is dead.”

“I know.” Bulstrode ducked her head, pinning the silk-blend fabric Hermione had chosen into place. “It’s just...difficult to say that name.”

“I understand.” Hermione sighed. “It’s still not easy for a lot of people.”

“Especially not Slytherins. People never seem to forget that _he_ was one.” Bulstrode appeared to be avoiding looking directly into Hermione’s face. “Do you want long sleeves, short sleeves or no sleeves? And I recommend a gently scooped neck.”

Hermione took the hint, going with the change of topic. “I’m not sure about either,” she said. “What do you think?”

“How formal is the event?”

“Pretty formal.” Hermione sighed. “The Minister and his wife will be there.”

“You’d look good in anything,” Bulstrode said, tone thoughtful. Hermione smiled, surprised at the compliment.

After a moment of staring openly at Hermione, Bulstrode continued. “Sleeveless, I think, to show off your shoulders, and fitted to emphasise your small waist. I can even put an automatic Warming Charm on it if you’re worried about being too cold. Or I can make you a matching wrap.”

“Either would be lovely, thank you.”

Bulstrode nodded. “Why don’t I do both? That way you’re covered.”

Hermione silently watched as Bulstrode worked. She was efficient and all too soon, Hermione’s dress was pinned, ready to be sewn. “When will it be ready?” she asked, slipping her blouse and skirt back on as Bulstrode levitated the fabric over to a table.

“Two days,” Bulstrode said, glancing over to where Madam Malkin was ringing Parvati up before continuing in a lower tone. “At least that’s what we tell most people.” She smirked. “It’ll probably really be ready tomorrow.”

Hermione smiled. “Two days is fine.”

“All right.” Gesturing towards the till, she said, “I’ll just calculate your total.”

It was less than Hermione’d thought it would be. Apparently, Bulstrode hadn’t even charged her for the separate shawl. When she mentioned it, Bulstrode shrugged. “I can make it from a remnant of the dress if I cut it carefully enough so I shouldn’t need to use any extra fabric.” She smiled. “And Granger?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for believing me.” Bulstrode blushed. “Not many would be inclined to.”

Speechless, Hermione stared at her. _What must it be like to have no one ever believe you_?

She opened her mouth, not sure how to respond to that, and then Parvati interrupted, tugging her arm. “We have to go, Hermione. We only had our lunch break to do this, not the entire day!”

“I’ll owl when it’s ready,” Bulstrode said, tone formal once more, and moments later Hermione found herself outside, Parvati chattering in her ear.

“--best dress ever, I can’t wait to see everyone’s face when they see me.” She glanced at Hermione. “Do you really trust that Slytherin to sew you something decent?”

“I do,” Hermione responded, tone thoughtful as she glanced back at Madam Malkin’s. “Actually, I think my dress will surprise you.”

***

Millicent slaved over Granger’s dress for two days, weaving protections into every seam, checking and re-checking the automatic warming and cooling charms she’d added and making sure everything about the design was perfect. She even added a couple of hidden pockets that she thought Granger would find useful. When she finally finished, she stepped back, surveying her work. Floating before her was the dress: a frothy creation that Millicent knew would float around Granger, setting off her good features. _Not that she has many bad ones._

Granger hadn’t always been attractive, what with her overlarge teeth and her bushy hair, but she’d definitely made the best of her features over the years. _And it’s not as if I’ve even been considered pretty._ Millicent snorted. _That’s an understatement,_ she thought, waving her wand to encase the dress and matching cape in tissue paper before settling them into the box. _Still, I’m not hideous or anything._ Years of physical labour had made Millicent fit, and while she’d never be thin, she wasn’t fat anymore, either.

Madam Malkin hadn’t cared what Millicent wanted to do with Granger’s dress, she’d delegated it entirely, design and creation, so Millicent had incorporated several of her own design ideas. As she got it ready, Millicent couldn’t help but worry that Granger might not like it.

Sending off the owl, Millicent settled in to wait. They had several customers that day, including the Patil bint, who ignored Millicent completely as she’d picked up her dress. Customers kept her busy the rest of the day, so by the time Granger arrived, Millicent was calmer.

The bell over the door rang and Millicent began the standard greeting before she realised who it was. “Welcome to Madam Malkin’s, the sartorial choice--Oh, Granger, it’s you.”

“Yes, sorry I’m late but I had some paperwork to finish at the Ministry.” She looked around. “Parvati got her dress already I take it.”

“Yes.” Millicent barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes.

Granger, clearly sensing her feelings, smiled ruefully. “I know she can be a bit tough to take.”

Millicent shrugged. “I’m used to it, really. Not many people are willing to give Slytherins the benefit of the doubt, after all.” _Except, apparently, you._

“Speaking of--” Granger leaned against the counter. “I, um, checked your story.”

“Oh?” Millicent met Granger’s gaze squarely. She’d figured as much. _It’s what I would’ve done, after all_. “And?”

Granger smiled, looking contrite. “Everything you said was true. Ginny says you protected students, regardless of House affiliation, from the Carrows and she even saw you save Neville from a Death Eater’s hex.” She sighed. “Under any other circumstances you’d have been considered a hero.”

Millicent couldn’t help it, she laughed. “Merlin, Granger! I’m a Slytherin from a family of Death Eaters. There’s no way anyone would consider me a hero.”

Looking upset, Granger shook her head. “Well it’s not right. You were acquitted, for heaven’s sake! There’s no reason that--”

“Bulstrode!”

Millicent winced. “Sorry but I have to go. Your dress is ready.” Reaching below the counter, she pulled out the box, placing it on the counter. “If you’d like, we can do a final fitting so you can see it on--” _And so I can see it on, too._

“That’s not necessary, I’m sure it’s fine.” Granger accepted the box, her fingers brushing the back of Millicent’s arm as the package changed hands.

Millicent suppressed a shiver. “Enjoy the reception.”

Chuckling, Granger rolled her eyes. “Unlikely, although, since I did get a new dress out of it I suppose it’s not all bad.” She paused. “And I got to hear your story, so that was good, too.”

Millicent’s heart sped up and their eyes locked for a long moment until Madam Malkin screamed for Millicent again, breaking the mood. “I have to go.”

“Right, of course.” Granger’s blush made her look even prettier. “I’ll, er, let you know how the reception went.”

“I’d like that a lot,” Millicent whispered.

Granger grinned. “Great. Well, goodnight, then.”

“’Night.”

Once Granger was gone, Millicent hurried into the back room to find Madam Malkin tapping her foot impatiently. “You need to get started on these robe alterations. I promised the witch who ordered them that they would be ready in the morning.”

“Yes, madam,” Millicent said, nodding. Then, with a sigh, she pulled a stool out from under the sewing table and got to work.

***

After putting on her grandmother’s sapphire earrings and necklace, Hermione surveyed herself in the mirror, twirling once again just to see the skirt of her new dress float about her ankles. How Bulstrode had managed to create the ethereal garment she had no idea. _I love it,_ she thought, smoothing her palms over the bodice and admiring the effect. _It’s perfect. And it even has pockets._

Remembering what Bulstrode had said about her shoulders, Hermione had piled her hair up in curls on the top of her head, and she had to admit, she didn’t look too bad. _I may even give Parvati a run for her money._

Glancing at the clock, she picked up the shawl, draped it over her shoulders, slipped a couple of reference books into the hidden pockets, and entered her Floo.

Emerging in the entrance hall of the Ministry, Hermione squared her shoulders and set off for the reception, which was being held in the lobby next to the Fountain of Magical Brethren.

Hermione generally eschewed parties and receptions, but, as assistant to the Undersecretary of the newest Department, she knew she needed to make a meaningful appearance, so she’d resigned herself to staying longer than her customary hour. Fortunately, Harry and Ron, as representatives of the DMLE, were also there.

Snagging a glass of champagne from a floating tray, Hermione approached Harry. “Hello, stranger,” she said, smiling.

“Hermione!” A pleased look on his face, Harry leaned in, kissing her cheek. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.” He looked her up and down. “Wow, you look amazing!”

She blushed. “Thanks, you don’t look bad yourself. And I know! It’s been at least a month since we’ve talked. Time really flies when you’re working, doesn’t it?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re not kidding. We have _got_ to go to lunch or something. We have no excuses, we all work in the same building, after all.”

“You’re right.” Regret filled Hermione that she’d allowed her obsession with her new job interfere with her relationship with her best friends. “We should pick a date, you, me and Ron, and we’ll nip out for lunch.”

“A date?” Ron came up behind her. “Are you two dating now?” He mock-pouted. “No one tells me anything.” He raised an eyebrow and whistled as he perused her dress. “Nice outfit, Hermione!”

Flattered, she chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Thank you for noticing, Ronald, and oh yes, Harry and I have suddenly realised we’re no longer gay and we want to date each other,” she deadpanned. “Because we didn’t have seven years of being constantly together to figure out that we’ll never be more than friends.”

Ron shook his head and handed Harry a glass of wine. “I can’t believe I never figured out you were both gay.”

“In your defence, it took us both a while to work it out for ourselves,” Hermione said, patting his arm. “So you could hardly have known.”

“Well, it certainly explained some things.” Ron grinned. “I was sure we’d end up paired up somehow after all the camping. Although if you’d worn dresses like this in the woods--” He winked and Hermione lightly smacked him.

“Yeah, well, the only thing I know is that after that I’m never going camping again,” Harry muttered. “Even if a new Dark wizard shows up.”

Hermione giggled. “Me either, magic tent or no.”

“The Minister’s going to speak, look lively,” Ron said, and both Harry and Hermione schooled their expressions and turned to face a floating podium on which Kingsley Shacklebolt and several others were standing.

“Welcome, everyone!” Kingsley’s low, calm voice moved through the room and everyone stopped speaking to listen. “We are here this evening to celebrate the connections between the Muggle and the Wizarding worlds.” A smattering of applause followed this.

“For far too long we have remained almost completely separate,” he continued. “And while that has been necessary in the past, I believe this is the dawn of a new era, an era which, hopefully, will herald a golden age of cooperation between our worlds. To that end we recently commissioned the Department of Magical and Muggle Cooperation, headed by our liaison to the Muggle world, Dora Alberta Thomas.”

An attractive woman stepped forward, smiling. The room erupted in clapping and excited chatter. Dean Thomas, who was there, was beaming as he stood behind his mother, and Ginny was next to him, holding his hand. Hermione smiled. It was good to see her friends happy.

“And, attending our reception this evening as our special guest is the first Muggle to ever be allowed into our Ministry, our new Muggle liaison, Ms Joanne Rowling.”

A blonde woman stepped forward and waved to polite clapping.

Holding his arms out, Kingsley said, “So please circulate, enjoy yourselves, introduce yourselves to our new liaisons, and have a wonderful evening!”

“Well that was short and sweet,” Ron said. “Thank Merlin. Have you seen any food?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Some things never change._ “I’m sure there will be food soon, Ron.”

“There’d better be,” Ron muttered. “These things are excruciating enough without food, right, Harry?”

“All I know is that I’m staying away from that blonde woman,” Harry said.

“Which one? Why?” Hermione asked, looking behind in the direction Harry had been staring. “Isn’t that the new Muggle liaison?”

“Yes.” Harry shuddered. “She’s been staring at me all evening, and according to Dean, she’s even been chasing after his mum trying to get information on me.”

Ron chuckled. “Face it, mate, you’re a famous bloke. Looks like even Muggles have heard of you.”

“I don’t want to be famous to Muggles.” Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s bad enough that wizards know my name. Bloody hell, she’s coming this way. I’m off. Owl me about lunch, guys, yeah?”

Harry dashed away, leaving Hermione and Ron staring after him. “Is he still secretly dating Snape?” Hermione asked.

Ron sighed. “Yeah, Merlin knows why.”

Hermione smiled. “I can see it, actually. Anyway, I really should circulate since I’m technically working tonight. See you later?”

“Sure.” Ron looked around. “I’m sure I saw another floating tray around here somewhere, maybe there’s food now--”

After stopping to talk with several people in her department, some former classmates and even Viktor Krum - who was very complimentary about her appearance - Hermione finally encountered Parvati, who did a double-take when she saw what Hermione was wearing. “Oh my God, did Bulstrode really make _that_? It’s gorgeous!”

“She did,” Hermione confirmed, eyeing Parvati’s relatively ordinary pink outfit. “And thanks. Yours is nice, too.”

“Not as stunning as yours.” Parvati pursed her lips. “The next time we go dress shopping I’ll have to follow your lead. Maybe Death Eater wannabes are good for something.”

The comment made Hermione see red for a moment. “Will you stop calling her that?” she said. “She showed you her arm;Floo'd what will it take for you to leave her alone?”

Hermione’s voice had inadvertently got loud and for a moment there was a lull in the conversation as people looked towards them curiously.

Parvati blinked. “Merlin, I was just joking,” she finally said.

“Well it wasn’t funny,” Hermione replied, scowling.

Nodding, Parvati stared at her. “Well, I can see Bulstrode’s got herself a defender.” With that she moved away, shooting speculative looks at Hermione over her shoulder.

 _Great, Hermione, that was subtle,_ Hermione thought, snagging another champagne glass from a passing tray as she tried to calm down. _Time to circulate_. “Not that she doesn’t _need_ a defender,” she muttered, garnering some strange looks from passersby.

All evening Hermione got compliments on her outfit and she made sure to cite Bulstrode for the dress. She even had an opportunity to use one of the reference books she’d slipped into a hidden pocket when Dora Thomas had asked her for a clarification about some esoteric point of Arithmancy. The feeling of pride that she could be both clever and attractive was heady and Hermione kept telling herself that she shouldn’t get used to it. But the attention was quite nice. Hermione looked forward to reporting back to Bulstrode on her dress’ success, but she tried not to examine too closely why she was so very excited.

***

Millicent got home at ten that night. Her days at the shop were long, but for the most part she enjoyed sewing. _I could do without the yelling, though,_ she thought as she made herself a cup of tea. _But I suppose that’s just Madam Malkin’s way._

Her salary at the shop was enough that she could afford a tiny flat in Bethnal Green, and she felt safe enough given her magic. She still tended to be careful, however, so when someone knocked on her door, her eyes narrowed and she drew her wand.

Wary, she approached the door. “Who is it?”

“Meelee?” a muffled voice said.

 _I recognise that voice._ Blinking, Millicent lowered her wards, unlocked the door, and opened it. “Viktor?”

Viktor Krum, clad in his ridiculous hat, grinned at her. “Meelee! Hallo!”

Smiling despite herself, Millicent crossed her arms. “And what kind of time do you call this for a visit, then?”

Shrugging, he said, “I had reception at Ministry.” He rolled his eyes. “I left as soon as I vas allowed so I could visit my old friend.” He looked over her shoulder. “I can come een? You are not beezee I ’ope?”

Reaching out, she grabbed his lapels. “Oh, get in here!”

Once inside, she fixed him some tea and they sat in her small living room to chat. “So how long have you been in England?”

“I got here today.” He wrapped his hands around the chipped mug. “I vas invited to attend Ministry reception for new department.” He shrugged. “Vas okay, many people, though, vas hot.”

“Oh?” Millicent sipped her tea, mind racing. _That was probably the reception Granger needed the dress for._ “Did anything interesting happen?”

Viktor smiled. “Yes. I hear that my friend is famous dressmaker.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Oh yes.” Viktor nodded emphatically. “’Ermione Granger vas there and vas telling everybody how she got her dress at shop vere assistant does good job.”

“ _Hermione_ , hm?” Millicent eyed him. “You took her to the Yule Ball that year, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Viktor shrugged. “I vas not her type, however.”

“Oh?” She blushed as he stared knowingly at her. “Did she mention the dress shop assistant by name?”

Viktor grinned. “Oh yes, and other girl, Patil, I zink? Yes, she mentions you by name, too.” He smiled proudly. “And so I leave early and come to visit and tell you.”

“Merlin.” Millicent sighed. “I hope Madam Malkin doesn’t hear. I doubt she’d want a shop assistant making a big name for herself and not the shop.”

“But vhy not?” Viktor frowned.

“She’s not the sort who likes to share her reputation.” Millicent paused, then decided to ask what she really wanted to know. “So who is Granger’s type, do you think?”

Viktor smiled widely. “I knew eet!”

“Knew what?” she asked, looking away. _Damn him for being so perceptive_! She knew that, like herself, Viktor had a keen mind and excellent observational skills, abilities many never appreciated because of his appearance and his reputation as a ‘brainless jock’.

“You like her.” Viktor shook his head, looking rueful. “I should haf known eet would happen. I liked you, and you like girls.”

She laughed. “So you think you’re interested in bent women?”

He grinned. “I tried to kees you, I tried to kees her--” He shrugged. “Eet seems I try to kees women who like women.”

“Maybe you need to try men, then?” Millicent suggested, tongue in cheek.

Viktor’s eyes widened. “No I like zee girls!” he protested.

She laughed, patting his knee. “I know, I was just teasing.” Rising she asked, “So. More tea?”

“Yes.” Viktor held out his cup. “We must talk more. You tell me everything.” He winked. “Zen I tell you about ’Ermione.”

“You always knew how to strike a good bargain,” Millicent chuckled. “Fine. Get ready to tell me everything.”

***

Hermione wasn’t late to her lunch with Harry and Ron, but it was a close thing. Dashing out of her office, she ran to one of the Ministry Floos, emerging in a bustling London street. She hurried towards the Lion’s Den pub as fast as she could, slipping in the door just as Ron was sitting down.

“Right on time!” Harry said, rising to hug her and kiss her cheek.

After Ron did the same, they ordered drinks and their meals, and Hermione leaned back in her chair, sipping her white wine. “So how have you two, been?” she asked.

“Training the new class of Aurors is exhausting,” Harry said. “I’m pretty sure we were never that young.”

Ron chuckled. “Oh, I bet I was. Well, before you two got your hands on me and we began breaking into forbidden parts of Hogwarts looking for Philosopher’s Stones.” He grinned at Hermione. “A wild risk-taker you are.”

Hermione laughed. “Those were the days, weren’t they? I never thought I’d look back and miss those times, but I sort of do. Not that I don’t enjoy my job but--”

“But there’s not as much excitement,” Harry finished. “Although, I have to say, I don’t miss having an insane Dark wizard after me.”

“Agreed,” Ron and Hermione chorused. Raising their glasses, they all drank to that.

“So what’s new with you, Hermione?” Ron asked as they ate their starters. “Ginny said you Flood her the other day to ask about Millicent Bulstrode of all people. Something about her protecting students during the Battle of Hogwarts?”

Hermione couldn’t help but blush. She tried to hide it by taking a bite. “Mmhm,” she hummed, swallowing. “She works at Madam Malkin’s and she...said some things that made me want to investigate what happened while we were off camping.”

“Oh?” Harry looked interested, so Hermione filled him in on Bulstrode’s story in between bites of food.

“So you see, that’s just more proof that not all of them were evil.” Hermione put down her fork and allowed the server to clear away her plate. “Some of them actually defended students and opposed Voldemort.”

“Is there a reason you’re trying to sell us on Slytherins?” Ron asked. “Don’t tell me you’re going to start some new campaign.” He sniggered. “Maybe you could call it ‘Slytherins are good’ or SAG.”

Harry chuckled while Hermione rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I just think it’s time we all get over the divisions of the past and move on. After all, the war’s over.”

“Tell _them_ that,” Ron muttered. “If I have to round up one more ex-Death Eater who thinks he can be the next Voldemort--”

“And they’re _all_ Slytherin?” Hermione challenged.

Ron flushed. “Er--”

“You’re not going to win this one, mate,” Harry advised. “Plus, she’s right. Not all Slytherins are evil.” Blushing as Ron and Hermione stared at him, he began digging into his main course.

“I’m surrounded by Slytherin lovers,” Ron sighed.

“Oh, as if you haven’t been trying to look down Pansy Parkinson’s blouse every opportunity you get?” Harry asked, eyebrow raised.

“What?” Ron went bright red. “No I haven’t.” Flustered, he quickly turned to Hermione. “Pass the bread, would you?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she chuckled, handing him the bread basket. “Anyway, all I’m saying is...we need to give people a chance, even if we have a bit of...chequered history with them.”

Placing his utensils down, Harry nodded, face serious. “I agree,” he said. “And there’s something I should tell you.”

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks. “Is it about Snape?” Ron asked.

“We already know, Harry,” Hermione said as Harry gaped at them. “We’ve known for a while.”

“What?” Harry, clearly gobsmacked, stared. “What do you know?”

“That you’ve been dating Snape for months.” Hermione smiled. “I know you think you’ve been discreet, but we’re your best friends. You’ve been talking about him and then when we ask questions you clam up. It’s been pretty obvious.”

Exhaling, Harry whispered. “And you’re okay with it?”

“We just want you to be happy, mate,” Ron said, patting Harry’s shoulder. “And if that means you’re with Snape, then--” He shrugged. “I just don’t want to know any details.”

Throwing back his head, Harry laughed. “I can live with that,” he finally managed. Shooting a speculative look at Hermione, he said, “So was that the only reason you were going on about how wonderful Slytherins are?”

“Of course.” Hermione tackled her main course with gusto, telling herself that she wasn’t lying. After all, just because she wanted Bulstrode to be as respected as she was didn’t mean anything. Did it?

***

When Granger showed up at Madam Malkin’s the following week, Millicent wasn’t surprised. She’d seen the announcement of the Ministry’s Spring Ball in the _Prophet_. Madam Malkin was expecting a lot of business and she’d even hired a couple of new, temporary assistants.

Millicent was being watched closely and she knew it, but Madam Malkin hadn’t said anything to her about letting her go, so she refused to worry. _If she fires me because I’m cutting into her business it’s one thing, but right now she’s busier than she can stand. She needs me._

“Bulstrode.” Granger appeared much the same as she had the last time Millicent had seen her: robes undone, a beige blouse tucked into a navy blue skirt. She looked as if she’d come straight from the Ministry. “Hello.”

“Welcome back to Madam Malkin’s, Granger,” Millicent said, hoping that her cool manner wasn’t too off-putting. _She’s supposed to be bright._ “How can we help you today?” Her eyes darted to the left to where Madam Malkin was hovering.

Granger picked up on Millicent’s clues immediately. “As I’m sure you know, the Ministry is hosting a Spring Ball, and as a Ministry employee I’ll need a proper outfit.” She smiled. “So I had to come here. I do hope you have time to fit me in?”

 _Perfect._ Millicent turned deferentially towards Madam Malkin, who was smirking. “Madam?”

“Of course we have time for you, dear!” Madam Malkin gestured towards the fabrics. “Millicent will help you. You were...satisfied with the dress you purchased here last time I hope?”

“Oh yes.” Granger nodded. “It was quite satisfactory.”

“Excellent.” Madam Malkin inclined her head. “Millicent will get you started on your new project since you so like her...ideas.”

As they walked away, Millicent murmured, “Thanks.”

Granger chuckled. “No problem. I work at the Ministry, remember? I understand politics.” She sighed. “I hope I didn’t get you into trouble before.”

Millicent glanced at her. “Because you told everyone at the reception who would listen that I made it?” She grinned.

Granger’s eyes widened. “Who told you?”

After considering keeping it a secret, Millicent relented. “It was Viktor Krum.” She smirked. “And it was pretty flattering, actually. It’s always nice to hear that someone really likes my creations.”

Granger shrugged, a blush spreading over her cheeks. “Well, I got a lot of compliments on that dress. There was no reason not to tell people who made it. You’re very talented. Talented enough to have your own shop even.”

Millicent’s eyes widened in alarm. “Shh!” Looking over her shoulder to be sure no one was close enough to hear their conversation, she continued, “Thank you, though.” Struggling not to smile too widely, Millicent mimed zipping her lips. It wouldn’t do to tip off Madam Malkin. “So, do you have an idea what colour or style of dress you’d like this time?”

“I like green,” Granger said, and they began looking through the bolts of fabric. “And the style you made before was great.”

“You’d look good in green,” Millicent said. “And I have some new ideas to suggest.” Granger agreed and, minutes later, she was up on a dais, being measured.

“So, _do_ you want your own shop?” Granger asked as Millicent was pinning. As Millicent’s head popped up in alarm, Granger smiled. “Don’t worry, I put up a localised Silencing Charm. We can talk freely.”

Millicent chuckled. _Gryffindors._ “You shouldn’t keep it up too long, she’ll get suspicious.”

“I’ll be careful.” Granger raised her arm so that Millicent could pin her sides. “So tell me more about why you don’t want your own shop.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Millicent said. “I just don’t have enough money to open one, and the goblins aren’t willing to lend to someone with no collateral.”

Granger nodded. “Yes, they’re not exactly generous creatures,” she said, tone dry.

Millicent laughed softly. “No, definitely not.”

“Have you looked for investors?”

Startled, Millicent blinked up at her, hands pausing in their quick movements. “Who would want to invest in me?” she asked, straightening up. Gesturing, she said, “You can come down off the dais now.”

Granger stepped down. “You have great ideas. Lots of people would be interested in investing. Your friends, maybe? Malfoy? Parkinson?” She blushed. “I would.”

“Would you?” Millicent whispered.

“Yes.” Granger’s breathing quickened and, inadvertently, Millicent’s hand slid around her waist, holding her in place. “In a heartbeat.”

“That’s...flattering,” Millicent managed, suddenly conscious of Granger’s scent.

Granger smiled. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much money to invest.” She rested her hands lightly on Millicent’s shoulders. “Anyway, you should do it. You’d be brilliant.”

For a moment, Millicent thought Granger was going to kiss her. “You may be the only one who thinks that.”

“I doubt that.” Granger slipped out her arms and began stepping out of the pinned dress.

Millicent blinked, tamping down hurt feelings. “Um, thanks.” _I think._ She accepted the fabric when Granger handed it to her.

Granger coughed. “We’re being watched,” she said softly. “Sorry.”

Discreetly glancing towards the front of the shop, Millicent could just make out Madam Malkin looking their way. “Bloody hell.”

“I’m pretty sure she didn’t see anything.” Granger winked. “I, er, put up a bit of a Vision Obscuring Charm, too.”

 _Then why didn’t you kiss me_? Millicent kept her face blank. “I guess you should take it down, then.”

Back in the outfit she’d worn into the shop, Granger smiled. “I will, there’s just one thing I need to do first.”

“Oh?”

Nodding, Granger grasped Millicent’s arm, drawing her close. “Yes. This,” she whispered, pressing her mouth to Millicent’s for a far too brief kiss. When she pulled away her face was flushed. “Right, I have to go.”

She raised her wand to cancel the charms but Millicent shook her head. “No. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly,” she murmured before pressing against Granger once more. This time she slid her tongue against the seam of Granger’s lips until, with a gasp, Granger let her in to explore at her leisure. By the time Millicent moved back they were both panting.

“Wow,” Granger whispered, touching her mouth with her fingers.

 _Yeah._ Millicent licked her lips. “Your dress will be ready in two days.”

Granger exhaled shakily. “Right. Good. I’ll, um, see you then.” With her wand she cancelled the charms and they walked to the counter without exchanging another word.

“All set?” Madam Malkin asked, eyebrow raised. “I do hope you’ll be pleased with what you chose today.”

“Oh yes,” Granger confirmed, a smile playing about her lips as she handed over her money to pay. She avoided looking directly at Millicent. “Very pleased.”

***

 _I kissed Millicent Bulstrode_ , Hermione thought, staring down at the parchment she’d been trying to read for at least ten minutes. _I kissed her and she kissed me back._ Touching her mouth with her fingers, Hermione sighed.

Somehow she had made it back to the office but managing to work was proving difficult. She kept remembering Millicent’s strong hands, the way her mouth had felt against hers, the way she had tasted.

Growling, Hermione pushed back from her desk. Glancing up at her fake window, she smiled when she saw it depicted bright and sunny skies. _Talk about giving away my mood--_

She rarely took breaks but she wasn’t getting anything done, so, exiting her office, she took the lifts up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. _Maybe Harry or Ron can distract me_.

Harry was out on a case but Ron was there, at least he was supposed to be, according to the secretary. He and Harry shared an office with several other Aurors, so when, as she rounded the corner and heard Ron speaking, she assumed someone was there with him. “--so are you planning on attending the Ministry Ball? If we’ll both be there, anyway, maybe--” He stopped, running a hand through his hair and leaning in to peer closely at his image in the mirror he was facing. “Oh yes, that’s smooth, Weasley,” he muttered.

Amused, Hermione watched as Ron proceeded to start his speech again. “Hey! I just happened to be passing by your department and I was wondering--” He groaned, his head sagging forward. “This is hopeless.”

“I dunno,” Hermione said. “I think your mirror likes you, too, Ronald.”

Ron jumped, drawing his wand and pointing it at her. “Merlin, Hermione, you scared me!”

“Sorry, I needed to talk to you but it looks like you’re busy seducing your...mirror.” She smirked, eyeing Ron speculatively. “And I hate to interrupt such a tender moment--”

“Shut it, you.” Sticking his tongue out at her, Ron gestured her towards his desk. “This is a perfect time, actually. I was just...um...practicing.”

“So I see.” She chuckled. “It was...cute.”

“Piss off,” he muttered, but he did smile. “So what’s wrong?”

“Does something have to be wrong for me to visit you?” Hermione asked.

Ron raised an eyebrow. “You’re usually too busy to visit during the day, so yes, it does.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do I need to hex someone for you?”

“If I need someone hexed I can do it myself,” she reminded him.

He grinned. “True.” Just then, someone walked into the office and he gestured towards the lifts. “Your office is more private if you need to talk, though.”

“When did you get to be so perceptive?” she murmured as they stepped into the lift.

Several people were there so Ron, leaning close, replied in her ear, “And always with the surprise.”

By the time they arrived back at her office, Hermione was chuckling. “So, who were you practicing for?” she asked as they settled at her desk.

Ron flushed. “You and Harry seem convinced Slytherins can be decent, so I thought I’d give it a shot.” He shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”

“Look at you being all enlightened,” she teased.

“Well, whatever it is can’t be too bad,” Ron observed after a moment.

“Why?”

He nodded at her mood window. “You have lovebirds cooing on that fake windowsill.”

Eyes widening, she spun. “Where?”

“I was kidding.” Ron sat back in his chair. “But clearly you have a lot to tell me.”

Hermione sighed. She really was off her game if Ron could manage to fool her so easily. “I may...have a problem. Or, well, maybe not a problem, but it could become an issue if I--”

“Right,” Ron interrupted, standing up. “When you start babbling I know something’s wrong. I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat and you can tell me all about it. I can tell this is going to be a long story.”

After a short hesitation, Hermione nodded. “Fine, let’s go.” _After all, I’m clearly not getting any work done today._

***

Millicent had been thinking about Granger almost constantly since their kiss, so when she appeared in the shop that afternoon, Millicent wondered for a moment that she was hallucinating.

“Hello.” Granger seemed real enough. “I know I’m back early.”

“I’m sorry, but your dress isn’t ready yet,” Millicent said.

Granger shook her head, smiling. “I didn’t come for the dress,” she said. “I know it’s too early. I came to issue an invitation.”

“Oh?” Millicent hadn’t been sure how Granger would react when she saw her next, but at least it didn’t look as if she was going to pretend nothing had happened. Millicent relaxed slightly. “What sort of invitation?”

“Ministry employees are meant to bring someone with us to the ball,” Granger said. “And I don’t-- I mean, would you like to go with me?”

Millicent blinked, surprised. “You want me to go to a dance with you? As what?”

“As my date.” Granger met her gaze squarely. “That is if you’d like. I mean, you don’t have to or anything, although it is a formal event, so you’ll need a formal dress--” She grinned. “I’m guessing that won’t be too much of a problem for you, though.”

 _A date_? Clasping Granger’s arm, Millicent pulled her into a quiet corner of the shop. Luckily, there were only a couple people in and none of them seemed to need Millicent’s help. “Why are you inviting me?”

“I like you.” Granger smiled hesitantly. “I don’t randomly kiss people in shops, you know.”

“Nor do I.” Millicent smiled back. “All right. Yes, I’ll go with you.”

“You will?” Granger grinned. “Wonderful. Um, so, how do we do this--?”

Reaching into her pocket, Millicent pulled out a piece of parchment and a pencil. Scribbling down her address, she handed it to Granger. “That’s where I live. The ball is Saturday, so maybe we can meet at my flat before we go? I’m not on the Floo network, I’m afraid.”

“All right.” Accepting the note, Granger glanced at it for a long moment as if memorising it. Millicent wouldn’t have been surprised if she were in case she lost the paper or something. “I’ll be there. How’s seven?”

“Perfect. And I’ll have your dress ready for you to wear.” Millicent stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I’ve added a couple of...adjustments.”

“Oh?” Granger’s breathing sped up.

“Mmhm.” Millicent, feeling very daring, entwined her fingers with Granger’s. “I think you’ll like them.”

“I’m sure I will.” Granger licked her lips. A noise from the back of the shop made them both jump and Millicent dropped Granger’s hand.

“I have to go back to work,” Millicent said, tone regretful.

“And I guess I should get back to the Ministry,” Granger replied. “I’ll, um, see you Saturday.” Millicent nodded and, after a moment of hesitation, Granger leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Bye.”

Millicent couldn’t stop smiling all day.

***

“Wait, what? You have a date to the ball?” Parvati raised an eyebrow. “I had no idea you were dating anyone! When did this happen?”

“Recently.” Trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, Hermione handed Parvati another report. “That needs to be proofed as soon as possible.”

“Stop trying to avoid the topic, Hermione.” Parvati tossed the report aside. “I want details. Who are you dating? Do I know them?” she smirked. “Male or female?”

“You...may have met them.” Hermione picked up the report and held in front of Parvati’s face. “And you’ll see who my date is on Saturday night if you go to the ball. Now this needs to get to the Undersecretary’s desk within the hour.”

Huffing, Parvati took the report. “Fine, I’ll go. But you can’t keep it a secret forever.”

Once Parvati was gone, Hermione sighed. She had a lot of work to do, but all she could think about was Saturday and what would happen. Would it be a disaster? What if she’d imagined their connection?

“Ron told me I should come and talk to you,” someone said from the door. Harry grinned as she looked up at him. “Looks like he was right. You seem preoccupied.”

She stuck her tongue her tongue out at him. “Makes sense since I’m at work.”

“Nope.” Settling into the chair across from her desk, Harry tilted his head and stared at her. “He’s right. This is a different sort of preoccupation.”

She sighed. “Harry--”

“You don’t have to talk about it.” Harry pursed his lips. “If anyone understands wanting to be...discreet about who they’re dating, it’s me. But if you need a shoulder to lean on, I’m here.”

Leaning back in her chair, she shook her head. “I almost told Ron when we went out to lunch, but I just couldn’t. I just...It’s so new, you know? What if it doesn’t work out? I mean I really want it to, but I’m just getting to know her and it’s all--”

“Wow, Hermione.” Harry was smiling. “I’ve never seen you like this. She must be special. Just...take your time. And, if it’s any consolation, Severus has agreed to attend the ball with me, so I think we’ll attract enough attention to distract everyone.”

Eyes wide, Hermione said, “Really? Snape agreed to that?”

Harry blushed. “I guess I can be...persuasive when it comes to Severus.”

She laughed, holding up a hand. “I’m not sure I wanted to know that.”

Harry grinned. “You could just end the suspense and tell me who she is.”

“Nice try.” Hermione, feeling oddly reassured, reached for another report. “But I have work to do, as, I imagine, do you. You’ll find out along with everyone else.”

“All right.” Standing up, he said, “I’ll see you Saturday.” He grinned. “Good luck.”

“You, too.” Smiling back, Hermione found herself hoping that they would all survive the night.

***

“I can’t believe you’re not going to tell me who your date is.” Pansy inspected her own reflection in the mirror. “If you weren’t so good at sewing, I’d be angry with you. Thanks for making this at the last minute, by the way.”

Millicent rolled her eyes. If Pansy hadn’t been the very next person she’d seen after Granger had shown up to invite her to the ball, she probably wouldn’t have given in to the temptation to discuss it, and Pansy wouldn’t have been haranguing her about it for days. Still, Pansy was her friend, so...“You’re welcome, and who are _you_ going with?” Millicent countered.

“Draco, naturally.” Pansy sighed. “I’d hoped...someone else would ask me, but he didn’t, so--” She twirled, smiling as the red dress Millicent had produced for her moved with her.

“You could have asked him.”

“I don’t ask men out.” Pansy turned away from the mirror. “This is perfect. Just what I wanted. I don’t know how you do it.”

“You asked Draco,” Millicent pointed out, earning herself a glare. “What?”

“That’s different and you know it,” Pansy sniffed. “It’s not as if it’s a real date with Draco, after all. I’m only going to the ball since I work there, and he _needs_ to go to establish Ministry contacts.”

Millicent nodded. Draco had been diligent in rebuilding the Malfoy fortunes, but the family name hadn’t been fully rehabilitated yet. “What do you think he’d say if I went to talk to him about an investment?”

Pansy looked startled for a moment. “What sort of investment?”

Millicent turned away. “I’ve been pondering starting my own dress shop. Gr-someone said I could be good at it and I have a lot of ideas I want to try.”

“Have you talked to Madam Malkin? Maybe she’d let you buy into her shop.”

“I don’t think so.” Millicent had tested the waters with her boss but had quickly realised that there was little interest in sharing the profits. “I think I’m going to have to go out on my own.”

Pansy pursed her lips. “I’ve been wondering how long it would take you to realise,” she said. “I think Draco would agree to invest. And so would I.”

Millicent blinked. “You would?”

“Absolutely.” Pansy shrugged. “I don’t have a lot, just a few thousand Galleons that I inherited from Daddy, but it’s money I don’t have to touch right away since I am living at home and the Ministry pay is decent.” She raised an eyebrow. “Just don’t lose your shirt with this venture.”

“I’ll try not to,” Millicent replied, tone dry. “That would be a bad image for a dress shop owner.”

Pansy chuckled. “Since you’re attending the ball, you can ask Draco yourself tonight,” she continued. “It’s good timing, actually, since he’s been talking about wanting to do more investing.”

 _I can’t believe Granger was right._ Relieved, Millicent handed Pansy the matching wrap she’d made for her. “Good idea. Right, well you’re all set. I’ll see you later.”

Pansy smirked. “Well _that_ was abrupt, even for you.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to get me out of here for some reason?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Millicent said, glancing at the clock. “I just want to start getting ready myself.”

“Then get ready.” Pansy crossed her arms. “I’ll wait.”

Millicent sighed. “My date’s coming here to meet me in a few minutes.”

“As future business partners, I think I should know who you’re dating.” Pansy didn’t move. “Is she cute?”

“Shut up,” Millicent said, blushing.

“Oh...she is.” Pansy grinned. “I can’t wait to see her. Do I know her?”

Grasping Pansy’s shoulders, Millicent began steering her towards the door. “Goodbye! I’ll see you at the ball.”

“I am not going anywhere--”

“Won’t Draco be looking for you?” Millicent interrupted.

Pansy paused, then huffed. “Fine, but I _will_ meet this person later you know. You should just tell me who it is now so I have time to prepare Draco.”

“Why will he need preparing?” Millicent asked, puzzled. “He doesn’t care who I date.”

“He may this time.” Pansy regarded Millicent for a moment. “We all may since you’re so reluctant to tell, it must be someone we all have a history with.” Her eyes widened. “God, it’s not Potter, is it?”

Millicent couldn’t help it, she threw her head back and laughed. “I like women, remember?”

“I thought so but Potter could probably turn someone if he tried.” Pansy rolled her eyes as Millicent resumed pushing her towards the door. “All right, I’m going. Honestly! I’ll see you later.” She reached for the door and, to Millicent’s horror, opened it only to stare into Granger’s face.

Granger, clearly startled, looked back and forth at them. “Erm, hello?”

***

“Granger. Well, well.” Pansy Parkinson, looking stunning in a red dress that clung in all the right places, was looking her up and down. “What are you doing here?” She shot a speculative look at Bulstrode.

 _I guess if we’re dating I should start thinking of her as Millicent._ Hermione smiled faintly. “I’m here to pick up a dress.”

“Mm, I’ll just bet you are.” Sailing past her, Parkinson sauntered down the steps before tossing over her shoulder, “I’ll probably see you both later at the ball.” Seconds later she was gone, having Disapparated.

Millicent sighed. “Come in.”

“Did I arrive at a bad time?” Hermione asked, walking past her and into the flat.

“No.” Millicent shut the door and turned to face her. “I had just been hoping to keep things...”

“Out of the public eye?” Hermione finished.

Millicent nodded. “Yes. Would you like something to drink? I have tea.”

“No, I’m fine.” Hermione looked around, noting how small the flat was. “This is certainly cosy.”

Millicent laughed. “It’s ridiculously small but I don’t need that much room.” She pointed to a corner where there was a screen. “My bed’s behind that, I’ve a tiny kitchen through there, and there’s a toilet behind where the bed’s hidden. It works.”

“I imagine it does.” Hermione coughed. “So should we get ready?”

“Oh, right.” Millicent held up her hand and a moment later a tiny box flew into it. “I shrink everything, so that makes the flat a lot more practical.” Unshrinking the box, she set it on a small table and opened it, pulling out a green dress. She held it up and Hermione’s eyes widened.

“It’s gorgeous,” she breathed. “Thank you!”

Millicent beamed. “I think you’ll look great in it,” she said. “Try it on. You can change behind the screen if you like.”

Feeling suddenly shy despite the fact that Millicent had seen her in her underclothes before, Hermione nodded and, taking the dress, moved behind the screen. She laid her clothes on the bed and stepped into the dress, sighing as the soft material caressed her bare skin. She’d brought jewellery, so she put it on, adjusting the necklace until it settled comfortably on her throat.

Glancing about, she spotted a black cat and she almost laughed out loud. “You got me into a lot of trouble my second year, I’ll have you know.”

The cat blinked sleepily at her before yawning and going back to sleep. Hermione chuckled.

By the time she emerged, Millicent had changed too, into a dark green, short-sleeved dress that showed off her curves to maximum advantage. “Wow,” Hermione said, staring.

“You, too,” Millicent replied, her gaze frankly admiring.

Hermione blushed. “Is there a mirror?” she asked.

Millicent gestured and Hermione walked over to it, blinking at the image she saw there. Somehow the dress made her look...curvaceous, womanly. The colour gave her skin a glow as if she’d been dipped in ultra-fine gold dust, making her eyes look almost green. “Merlin, I have breasts!” she exclaimed.

Millicent laughed. “I’m afraid I didn’t make that happen,” she said. “You had them before.”

Hermione chuckled. “You know what I mean.” She leaned in closer. “I can’t believe you made me look this good.”

“Clothing only enhances what’s already there,” Millicent murmured.

Their eyes met in the mirror and Hermione smiled. “We look good together.” And they did, Millicent’s dark hair complementing Hermione’s brown curls. Their dresses, both green, were similar, although Millicent’s showed a bit more cleavage and Hermione’s, because it was sleeveless, displayed her shoulders.

Millicent reached up, brushing Hermione’s hair back behind her shoulder. As she moved, Hermione spotted something on her inner wrist. “What’s that?” she asked, turning and pulling Millicent’s hand in for a closer look.

“It’s a runic tattoo.” Millicent seemed embarrassed.

Hermione brushed her thumb over the tattoo, which seemed to undulate. “What does it say?”

“It’s...something I got it after the war. It means ‘brave strength’.” Millicent shrugged. “That’s what my name means.”

“Oh.” The skin over it was warm and Hermione couldn’t stop caressing it. “What language is it?”

“It’s ancient Cyrillic.” Millicent smiled as Hermione blinked. “You know Viktor Krum?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. We went to the Yule Ball together as students.”

Millicent nodded. “I remember. Anyway, he and I ended up fighting alongside each other during the Battle of Hogwarts.” Her eyes went distant as she remembered. “Afterward, when my parents were sent to Azkaban, I ran into him and he...” She smiled. “He invited me to visit Bulgaria. As it turns out, we’re distant cousins and he...encouraged me to get this.” She refocused on Hermione. “It’s to remind me that I am strong enough to be my own person, follow my own path.”

“That’s true for everyone,” Hermione said, moved. Lifting Millicent’s wrist to her mouth, she kissed the skin, smiling as Millicent shivered.

Millicent’s mouth fell open. “You’re right, it is.” She rested her free hand on Hermione’s waist. “And we really should go. We don’t want to be late.”

Nodding, Hermione pressed a soft kiss to Millicent’s lips. “Okay,” she whispered against her mouth before releasing her hand and starting for the door.

“And I thought Slytherins were teases,” Millicent said softly, desire coiling in her core.

Hermione tossed a flirtatious smile over her shoulder. “Oh, we Gryffindors have our moments.”

***

The ball was in full swing when they arrived. Heart beating fast, Millicent tried to lurk behind Granger as they entered the Ministry’s Atrium, which was decked out for the event, but Granger wasn’t having it. “We’re here together and people are going to know,” she said, clasping Millicent’s hand firmly and pulling her forward.

Surprised that Granger wasn’t trying to hide that they were together, Millicent murmured, “All right, all right, keep your knickers on, Granger.”

Granger spun to look at her so fast that Millicent blinked. Was that _hurt_ on her face? “We’ve kissed each other,” she said clearly. Behind her, Millicent saw an older witch do a double take, obviously having overheard. “More than once,” she continued, oblivious to the attention being directed their way. “Don’t you think we’re at the point where you can call me by my first name?”

 _Yes I do and yes I can._ “Of course, Hermione.” Millicent was amazed at how easily it slid off her tongue. “It’s just habit.” _And I guess you’re not ashamed to be seen with me._ It had been a concern. Warmth settled in Millicent’s chest.

Hermione smiled. “It’s all right. I suppose we both have some bad habits to overcome.”

“Hm, and speaking of bad habits--” Millicent braced herself as Padma and Parvati Patil approached.

“Parvati.” Hermione smiled a bit warily. “Padma.”

To Millicent’s surprise, Parvati glanced down at their joined hands then back up at their faces. “Hermione, you sly thing, you,” she said. “You’re dating _Bulstrode_? You know what this means, don’t you?”

Hermione’s hand tightened on Millicent’s. “Er-- no?”

“You’re going to be the best-dressed witch in the Ministry!” Parvati was pouting.

Her sister rolled her eyes, smacking her on the arm. “She’s been talking about the dress you made for Hermione for a week,” Padma said, eyeing Millicent’s and Hermione’s outfits. “And I can see why. Your dresses are beautiful.”

“They’re Bulstrode originals,” Hermione said, sounding for all the world as if she were a proud parent.

 _Or a lover,_ Millicent thought. “Thank you,” she managed.

Padma reached into her purse, extracting a card. “Do you do independent work, Bulstrode? If you do, I run a wedding planning business and I frequently get requests from witches who ask if I know anyone who can produce beautiful garments on short notice.”

A bit gobsmacked, Millicent accepted the card, slipping it into one of her trademark invisible pockets.

Parvati sighed. “I think I should to get a discount on your dresses. After all, I reintroduced the two of you. Sort of.”

Padma shook her head. “Shut up, Parvati,” she said. “Have a good evening, you two, and, Bulstrode, do think about what I said, will you?”

Dazed, Millicent nodded, and a moment later they were standing alone together. No one was pointing or staring. In fact, other than the occasional smile from a random wizard or witch, they were being ignored, much to Millicent’s relief. Hermione periodically smiled or nodded at passersby, but didn’t make a move to abandon Millicent in the middle of the crowd, which was reassuring.

“Don’t you have people to talk to?” Millicent asked after a minute.

Hermione nodded. “Yes, but they can wait. The ball’s barely started. I can socialise later.”

Millicent glanced over to where Parvati was gesticulating, surrounded by several people. “She’s very outgoing.”

“She is.” Hermione looked away. “And did you see how excited Padma was to talk to you? You could easily run your own business,” she said. “I do hope you seriously consider doing that. I bet you’d have a lot of customers in short order.”

Reaching out, Hermione snagged a couple of glasses of champagne from a passing tray, offering one to Millicent, who accepted it gratefully.

“I...mentioned your idea to Pansy, actually.”

“Which idea?”

“About me getting investors to start up my own shop. She thinks it’s a good idea. She even offered to invest.” Millicent took a sip of wine, feeling a bit overwhelmed. It was one thing to doodle dresses, quite another to run a shop. _Can I really do that_?

Somehow, Hermione seemed to understand. “Well it’s not a decision you need to make immediately,” she said, tone soothing. “I doubt Madam Malkin is about to let you out of her sight given all the good publicity you’ve brought her recently.”

“Good publicity?” a familiar voice asked. “For a Slytherin?” Turning, Millicent saw Pansy and Draco approaching. “Is such a thing possible?”

“Apparently it is for some of us,” Millicent shot back, pleased to see some friendly faces. “Hello, Draco. Pansy.”

Draco leaned in, kissing the air next to Millicent’s cheek. “Hello.” Voice pitched low, he said, “I understand we need to talk about an investment opportunity.” Drawing back, he looked meaningfully into her eyes.

She nodded. “We do.”

“Good.” Looking satisfied, Draco stepped back and murmured something polite to Hermione, who inclined her head.

Pansy leaned in for a pseudo-kiss as well, whispering, “So it _was_ Granger? Nice.”

Millicent flushed. “Shut it, you,” she muttered, her blush spreading. Exhaling, she could feel the automatic Cooling Charm on her dress kick in.

“Just promise me that you’ll still sew for me when you’re famous,” Pansy said, tone sly.

Millicent was about to make a rude comment when there was a commotion and Potter, arm in arm with Severus Snape, entered the Atrium.

There was a lull as if everyone in the room had inhaled at the same time, and then the buzz of frantic conversation began to circulate.

“Well,” Draco drawled, eyebrow raised. “That’s a convenient distraction.” He smirked at Millicent. “No one will even notice us here in the corner.”

Hermione smiled. “I know.” She winked. “He told me they’d be doing this.”

Millicent’s heart sank and her insecurities began to surface. _If she knew this would happen, maybe she was counting on Potter’s arrival to take the attention off us? Maybe she isn’t that brave._ “Excuse me,” she said, releasing Hermione’s hand. “I...need some air.”

***

Confused, Hermione watched Millicent flee. “What just happened?”

“No idea.” Parkinson regarded Hermione coolly. “Maybe she thought you didn’t want to be seen with her.”

“Why would she think that?”

Parkinson and Malfoy shared a long look. “Oh, there’s Interrogator Brooks of the Wizengamot. I need to speak with him, excuse me.”

Once he was gone, Parkinson crossed her arms. “What are you playing at, Granger?”

“I am not playing,” Hermione snapped. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Millicent is my friend. If this is some sort of elaborate plot to embarrass her or--”

At the end of her patience, Hermione said, “Will you stop babbling and tell me what just happened?”

Parkinson blinked. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“Parkinson,” Hermione growled. “Do not force me to hex you, because I will--”

To her surprise, Parkinson smirked. “Fine. Was it your plan to hide your relationship with Millicent by plotting to have Potter and Snape show up and distract everyone?”

Hermione’s mouth fell open. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t control what Harry and Snape do.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I’m proud to be seen with Millicent.”

“Then you should tell her that.” Parkinson smiled. “And, Granger? If you hurt her--”

Pushing past her, Hermione said, “If I hurt her, I’ll hex myself.”

She found Millicent in one of the more deserted corridors. “Millicent?”

Millicent looked up. “Are you ready to go?”

Hermione approached cautiously. “If you are, yes. Although I’d hoped to say hello to some people first.”

“And you want me with you?” Millicent asked.

“Yes.” Moving closer, Hermione reached for her hand, encouraged when she didn’t draw away. “I wouldn’t have invited you to attend as my date otherwise.”

Millicent stared at her for a moment before nodding. “I believe you.” She sighed. “Sorry about that, I do have some...social anxiety. I’m all right interacting one on one with people, but this ball is so crowded--”

“I’m sorry.” Hermione clasped Millicent’s immediately, pulling her close. “Do you want to go? We can. I’d just hoped--”

“Hoped?” Millicent’s eyes narrowed. “What had you hoped?”

“That we could talk to Harry and Severus.” Hermione could feel herself blushing. “And Ron.”

“Weasley and Potter?” Millicent shook her head. “Don’t you work with them?”

“Well, we all work here.” Hermione shrugged. “They’re my friends and I’ve been, er, hinting about...us, and I was saving my big announcement for tonight. I want them to know about us, see us together.”

“You mean you _want_ them to know about me?”

Exasperated, Hermione cupped Millicent’s face in her hands and leaned in. “Yes, dammit!” she cried, pressing a kiss on Millicent’s closed mouth.

Millicent stumbled backwards, pulling Hermione with her, ending up leaning on the wall. Her lips parted and Hermione moaned as their tongues slid together and she tasted champagne and something more beneath, something that was all Millicent.

Her hands moved into Millicent’s hair and it was as if that was a signal. Millicent sagged against her, her arms wrapping around Hermione’s waist, drawing her closer as the kiss deepened, got hotter.

Hermione’s breasts, flattened against Millicent’s, were aching, her body was trembling and as she drew back long enough to breathe, Millicent’s teeth nipped her lower lip teasingly before she let go. “I guess you do want them to know,” she whispered.

Hermione laughed softly. “What gave me away?” she teased.

Millicent inclined her head. “The fact that they’re watching.”

Eyes wide, Hermione turned her head to see Harry, hand in hand with Snape, staring. Behind Harry, Ron was gaping at them. “Hermione’s dating _Bulstrode_?” he croaked.

“It would appear so,” Snape said. “Unless she routinely kisses women she isn’t dating.”

“Oi!” Ron cried, looking outraged. “That’s my friend you’re talking about.”

Harry chuckled. “ _I_ know you’re kidding, Severus, but not everyone can appreciate your sense of humour.”

“What sense of humour?” Snape deadpanned. “Slytherins never joke.”

Millicent smirked. “Careful, sir. You’ll give away our secrets.” She tightened her hold on Hermione’s waist.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “So, another Slytherin falls for a Gryffindor? Dear me.”

“Just following your excellent example.” Millicent grinned.

“So this is where everyone went.” They all spun to look at Parkinson, who was regarding the entire group with a speculative look on her face. “Everyone’s wondering where you disappeared to. What did I miss?”

Ron blushed and everything fell into place for Hermione. “I’m sure Ron can fill you in, right, Ron?” she said.

“Er--” Ron looked as if he wanted to ground to swallow him.

Parkinson, always quick on the uptake, smirked. “Brilliant idea.” Walking up to Ron, she tucked her arm in his. “Everyone else seems to have a Slytherin escort, Weasley. Perhaps you need one, too? Why don’t you give me a tour?”

Clearly speechless, Ron simply nodded, looking dazed as she led him away. “Didn’t you come with Malfoy?” Hermione heard him ask.

“Oh, pish,” Parkinson said. “Let him find his own Gryffindor.”

“Lunch next week, Hermione?” Harry said as Snape began drawing him away.

“Of course.” She smiled, laying her head on Millicent’s shoulder as they left. “So, that was all I wanted to do tonight.”

“Are you saying we can go now?” Millicent asked. “Or would you like to show me to the Minister next?”

Hermione giggled. “I want to show you off to the world, but right now I’m feeling a bit selfish. I’m hoping to have you all to myself for the rest of the evening.”

Winking to show she was teasing, Millicent sighed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll just have to wait for another official event, then.”

“Mm.” Hermione began pulling her towards the exit. “Luckily, I’m the assistant to the Undersecretary of the Magical Muggle Liaison Division of the Ministry.” She rolled her eyes. “There’s always another event around here.”

“Fortunately, you now have a dressmaker at your disposal.”

Hermione nodded. “I _am_ fortunate,” she said.

“And about to get very lucky,” Millicent promised as they slipped into a Floo.

***

Upstairs, Ron, a bit nervous now that he was finally getting a chance alone with Pansy, was showing her around the offices. “And this is where Hermione works,” he said. “It’s the newest addition to the Ministry.”

“Um hm.” Smirking, she drew him towards the desk. “It’s very....neat. Shall we mess it up a bit?”

Ron’s mouth went dry as Pansy hopped up on Hermione’s desk and she leaned back. Moving forward, something made him glance up at Hermione’s charmed window. It was dark, depicting a nighttime sky with twinkling stars, and Ron could just make out a couple snogging under a tree. He smiled, reaching for Pansy. “Why not? Something tells me she won’t mind too much.”

***

End

***


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